Cold as Stone
by Deity-of-Words
Summary: One second. That was all it had taken for everything to change. One split second for everything to be pulled inside out and turned upside down.


**Hey everyone! J****ust letting you know that this is my personal take on Optimus dealing witn Ironhides death.**

**A massive thanks to both Mrs. Optimus Prime for reading this and giving my opinions whenever I bugged her and to Bells of Eden for her amazingly awesome edits!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape or form.**

_Wish I was cold as stone, then I wouldn't feel afraid; wish I didn't have this heart._

_**Cold as Stone – Lady Antebellum**_

One second. That was all it had taken for everything to change. One split second for everything to be pulled inside out and turned upside down.

And because of it, Optimus Prime had been left a broken mech.

That single moment kept repeating in his processors; every time he closed his optics he saw Ironhide slowly being consumed by the cosmic rust – every single detail of that event seemed to be etched onto his memory. He could clearly remember the feeling of impending doom that had plagued his spark for the duration of that day: the acidic, burning smell of Energon that had assaulted his vents as he'd watched the life drain from his oldest compatriot.

He remembered when Sentinel had fired the first shot.

_X – X – X – X_

_It was surreal to say the least. The fact that they had actually found Sentinel Prime was a miracle. But everyone was too wrapped up in that miracle; so much so that no-one had even considered the possibility that something was wrong – that they were going to be betrayed. _

_He wasn't supposed to have been there. But ever since they'd found Sentinel on the dark side of the Moon, Optimus had felt that something was wrong. He hadn't been able to understand why, but he'd seen the truth. Just not in time. _

_He arrived back at NEST seconds after the others. At the time, his main concern had been protecting his predecessor; he'd believed the Decepticons were attempting to kidnap Sentinel and have him activate the space bridge — but that wasn't the case. The Decepticon attack was a ruse, a distraction, engineered so that Sentinel could retrieve the Pillars instead. Unaware of the true nature of the situation, Optimus watched as the two mechs transformed and stood. Behind him, Sam Witwicky and Will Lennox spoke together, echoing his thoughts on the situation: that Sentinel was the key to it all, that he was the one the Decepticons were after._

_But as Sentinel slowly turned to face them, he realised how wrong he'd been. _

"_Indeed, I am," his old master said. His words carried a terrible, unspoken threat. "What you must realise, my Autobot brothers, is we were never going to win this war. For the sake of our planet's survival, a deal had to be made—"_

_The Prime turned away from them, his frame obscuring his hands — and his weapon. _

"— _with Megatron."_

_Quick as lightning, he cocked the weapon and turned._

_Ironhide was the mech closest to Sentinel, facing away from him. Only when the resounding click of the weapon being loaded echoed in his audios did it dawn on him that they had been betrayed. Optimus's world froze over as Sentinel raised the Rust Gun and aimed it at Ironhide's unguarded back._

_He couldn't believe it. Sentinel – the former Autobot leader – had betrayed them._

_Everything was happening in slow motion. No-one moved an inch. The simply stood, immobilized by shock, as the horror unfolded before them. Someone – Optimus's didn't know who – called out to Ironhide, trying to warn him— but it didn't matter. Whoever it was, it was too late._

_Time sped back up when Sentinel fired the first shot. A concentrated blast of cosmic rust burst through Ironhide's chest, sending pieces of his armour flying through the air. Sentinel fired a second shot in quick succession. The shot went awry, hitting the left of Ironhide's back, but still cracked and broke the Autobot's armour. _

_Optimus watched, disbelieving, as the rust consumed Ironhide's frame. It worked unbelievably fast, turning Ironhide's once shimmering black armour into ghastly, all-consuming rust._

_Ironhide couldn't make sense of the situation; why had Sentinel betrayed them? Why had he made a deal with Megatron?_

_He wanted – no, needed answers._

_The dying mech looked up at Sentinel, his optics bright with shock. "What — h-have you done?" he gasped out. His voice already sounded weaker. _

_Sentinel was expressionless. _

"_I hereby discharge you from duty."_

_Bumblebee dashed forward to protect his mentor. Sentinel raised the blaster a third time, and with deadly precision, fired a third and final shot. _

_All three shots were cheap, cowardly moves. Optimus knew that. But if the first had frozen his world, the last one shattered it completely. _

_The ground beneath his feet collapsed. The devastating clarity of the situation was too much for even a Prime to handle. That final shot had confirmed the impossible truth: Ironhide was gone. No divine intervention, no miracle, was going to bring him back._

_Chaos ensued._

_Sentinel fired a number of shots, alternating between aiming for the fleeing humans and Bumblebee, who returned fire without hesitation. Sam called out to his guardian, clearly terrified. Lennox hauled him out of harm's way, shouting for the men to get inside. _

_But none of that registered in Optimus's processors. His optics were fixed only on Ironhide. _

_The screams of fright and terror; the gunfire and explosions – none of it penetrated his audios. Sound was obsolete. The conflict was nothing. Nobody touched him, and no bullets made contact with him – every fibre of his being was concentrated on Ironhide._

_Optimus took a few small steps towards his fallen friend. When he reached the cadaver, he fell to his knees and remained there._

_His processors were strangely quiet. Some might imagine that a thousand thoughts would have raced through his CPU — but Optimus Prime had only one echoing thought. Gone. Ironhide was nothing more than a cadaver. He was truly gone. Forever._

_Ironhide. _

_A second thought entered his processors: impossible. His mind repeated the word over and over. It simply wasn't possible. Not Ironhide. He couldn't be dead._

_Slowly, carefully he reached out to touch Ironhide's frame, as though he could wake the mech by simply shaking him._

"_Don't touch it!" _

_Ratchet's voice jerked him from his trance. The remainder of that day never quite sank into his processors; all that had registered was the betrayal and pain of Ironhide's death._

X – X – X – X

A part of him should have known. Optimus believed that wholeheartedly. He should have known. He'd known Sentinel for years. Then again, none of them had been expecting the betrayal – and they most certainly hadn't been expecting _Sentinel Prime _to be the traitor. He had fooled them all; they had all trusted him – Optimus more than the others.

But he should have been there to stop it. Instead he had let his emotions cloud his judgement, and it had resulted in someone's death – and not just anyone's death. His misjudgement had led to Ironhide's execution. Ironhide had been _'discharged from duty'_.

_Primus, it's my fault. _

A grief-stricken sob escaped the Prime as he hid his faceplates behind his hands. Optimus hadn't felt so lost, so alone in vorns. Of course, when someone had lost their life in the past he had felt sadness and grieved along with his troops, but what he felt now — it was completely overwhelming.

The sudden appearance of a hand on his shoulder broke him from his despair; startled, Optimus rose to his feet and turned. His hands curled into fists and a warning growl rumbled in his vocal cords as he prepared to launch a defence move.

Ratchet looked back at him.

They stared at one another for some time before Optimus finally lowered his fists and turned away. He vented deeply to compose himself.

"Forgive me, Ratchet. You startled me."

Ratchet slowly lowered himself into the opposite seat. "There is nothing to forgive, Optimus."

Silence. They each pondered their memories of Ironhide.

The mech had meant a great deal to the both of them, probably more than either was really willing to admit. He had been there from the beginning – when the war had first started on Cybertron. Ironhide had been there when the Great War had destroyed their home planet; he had vowed to see it through to the end. He had wanted to be there when it ended — but he wouldn't be able to now.

Optimus vented again, trying to stay calm. He was a Prime, a leader. He needed to remain strong in the face of adversity. His troops needn't see his resolve falter.

"It is not below a Prime to grieve."

Ratchet's voice was quiet and thick with sorrow.

Optimus couldn't reply. Ratchet watched him. It was clear from the emptiness in his gaze that Ironhide's passing had affected him deeply.

"You can be angry," he said. "You can shout. You can hit someone. Primus knows, Ironhide has done it before."

"_Did_ it before."

Ratchet rubbed his nasal strut, cursing his choice of words. He had come here in the hopes of consoling his Prime, but it was proving to be a difficult task. Ironhide had meant a great deal to all of them — but he had meant a great deal more to Optimus. When Optimus had first been created, it was Ironhide that had been assigned to guard the future Prime — but their relationship hadn't been restrained by titles. Ironhide had been more than his protector; he had been his closest friend.

"Let it out," Ratchet said firmly. "Don't — 'bottle it up', as the humans say."

"I am the Autobot leader, Ratchet. My troops shouldn't see me like this."

"We're more than your troops, Optimus. We're your friends."

Optimus shot Ratchet a glare. "You have seen firsthand what happens to _my friends_."

Ratchet was a medic in a large scale war – of course he knew what happened to the mechs and femmes injured during the numerous battles. He was the one given the task of attempting to repair them; the one to give them false hope when they were too badly damaged — but those things didn't happen because of Optimus.

"You cannot blame yourself, Optimus."

"Have you come to see me for a reason, Ratchet? Or to lecture me?"

Optimus stood, sending his chair toppling to the ground, but Ratchet remained seated. "I am used to the role of bereavement counsellor," he said dryly. "Each of them has come to me for advice on what to do now that Ironhide is no longer among us — all except for you, Prime. I came to see how you were —"

"How do you _think_ I am? Ironhide has been offlined, Ratchet, and it is_ my_ fault!"

"Sentinel was the murderer, Prime. Not you."

"He trained me Ratchet! I am — I am just like him. His mirror —"

"No, you are not," Ratchet snapped. "You are _nothing_ like Sentinel. You are not a traitor. You are not a killer."

Once again the events of that day flashed through his mind. He just could not believe that Ironhide was truly gone. They had been together for so long that Optimus couldn't recall a time when he had gone a day without seeing the mech. He rested his head in his hands.

Ratchet stood. "Optimus," he said, "I didn't come here to lecture you. You are the only who hasn't said anything since Ironhide's — demise. Everyone else has done something to show that they are grieving – including myself." Optimus looked up at him, and Ratchet added wearily: "I am a medic, Optimus. I am the one left to take care of those killed during these hard times. I mourn them, but away from prying optics."

"I hadn't considered that, Ratchet, I am sorry."

Optimus felt worse now, he had never considered Ratchet, left to clean the corpses of their comrades.

Ratchet waved a hand dismissively. "We are not talking about me. We are talking about _you_, and how you feel."

Optimus looked away.

"I don't know what to do, Ratchet." His voice was soft, heartbroken.

"Just tell me how you feel," Ratchet said quietly, his hand resting on the mech's shoulder.

Optimus sighed.

"How I _feel_?" he said softly, more to himself than to Ratchet. "I feel — I feel like I am losing my sanity. For the first time in vorns, I feel alone. Lost."

Ratchet nodded, but otherwise said nothing. It was clear that Optimus had reached his limit; it would be unwise to push him too hard.

"Every time I think I've made the right decision, Primus finds a way to prove me wrong." Optimus concealed his face behind his hands. "My spark is broken. There is no way to repair it. When Ironhide died, he took part of me with him." He stumbled over his words. The wound of Ironhide's death was still far too fresh in his processors; just talking about it made knives cut at his spark.

"Optimus" — Ratchet rubbed his hand against his helm in a very human gesture — "do you really think that just because Ironhide is dead, he has ceased to exist?"

The question caught Optimus off-guard. "I don't know."

Ratchet simply raised an optic ridge.

"We are told of the Matrix; that one day we will be reunited with our fallen comrades — but whether it truly exists is beyond my understanding. None of us know what awaits us on the other side."

The medic contemplated Optimus's words. Ironhide's death had clearly shaken his faith. Ratchet had never considered Optimus to be the kind to lose his faith in Primus — but everyone found their limit sooner of later.

"Sometimes our faith, our beliefs, are all we have," he said, weighing his words carefully. "Ironhide believed in that more than anyone else. He believed that one day this war would end, and we would be able to start new lives without fear of when the next fight would come. He also believed in the Matrix; that we would be reunited."

Optimus hung his head.

"I'm tired, Ratchet."

"Tired?"

"Tired of feeling like this. Like I have lost control."

Perhaps he could be a star, something far away, left to look down on the races of the universe — never caring for someone so deeply again that he couldn't bear to lose them.

Noticing Optimus's declining condition; Ratchet retook his seat. "Optimus, you will only lose control if you allow yourself to do so. I know that this is hard — Ironhide's passing is extremely difficult for us all — but things will get better."

Optimus was trembling. "I would give _anything_ just to have him back — or to forget about him, or just get rid of these emotions —"

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

"No. Not having emotions — _that_, Prime, would make you like Sentinel. Like Megatron, too. A monster. You don't want to forget about Ironhide. He was your friend."

Optimus shook his head, embittered.

"Help me."

"Be strong, Prime. We are here for you. I am here."

With those words, his resolve broke. He fell further forward into his seat until Ratchet was embracing him. He sobbed openly for the first time in vorns. He had always worked hard to keep a brave face when addressing his troops. He was their leader; he needed to be brave for them, if not himself — but now it was too much.

Ratchet simply stroked his back, saying nothing. There was nothing else that needed to be said: Optimus just needed to let go.

The two of them remained like that for a number of minutes. Neither of them spoke; they simply embraced one another and let their memories of the mechs and femmes they had each lost enter their processors. After a few more minutes, Optimus's shuddering ceased. Ratchet gently released Optimus from the embrace and looked into his optics.

"Thank you, Ratchet," Optimus said softly. "Thank you." He cleared his vocal chords. "If you wouldn't mind, I — I would like a few minutes alone."

Ratchet nodded slowly and rose. The medic placed his hand gently on his shoulder before he left the room.

Optimus remained seated for a few minutes, allowing the conversation to sink into his processors. It had been some time since he and Ratchet had talked so openly, and while the conversation hadn't been terribly long, Optimus felt as though a weight had been lifted from his spark. He stood, gently pulled open his door and closed it behind him before disappearing down the halls. His destination was clear in his mind: there was still one person with whom he had to speak.

Optimus entered the memorial wing that had been erected in the Autobot base. It was a small and simple room, devoid of furniture except for the far wall, which had been decorated with commemorative plaques, each one representing a mech or femme that had been taken from them through the Great War. Each plaque was inscribed with Cybertronian characters that spelled their names; written underneath was an English translation for the humans. Slowly Optimus approached the wall and brushed his fingers against the plaque belonging to Ironhide.

"I am sorry that I did nothing to save you, my friend."

As Optimus stood in front of the wall, he felt a familiar pair of optics staring at his back. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around to look at the open doorway — where nobody stood. His optic ridges furrowed in confusion. He had distinctly felt someone watching him.

Optimus continued to watch the doorway — only to notice the silhouette of a distinctive black frame glide past the open doorway. His optics widened in shock as his processors attempted to make sense of what he had just seen.

After a moment, Optimus turned back to Ironhide's plaque and gently placed his fingers against it once again.

"Until all are one, my friend."

**I'm really proud of this so I hope you all enjoyed reading it!**


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